


More Important Than All The World

by honeybadgerwrath



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4720535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybadgerwrath/pseuds/honeybadgerwrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't his first time and it isn't hers, but what it is is the first of them and Illya is determined to get it right. (Absolutely shameless smut)</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Important Than All The World

**Author's Note:**

> A quick and rough one-shot for something that is anything but.

It was his hands that tremble when he reaches for her. A terror that was all his own that lives in the bones and sinews of the hands that could so easily break the delicacy of the body beneath his touch. He could measure the smallness of her waist with his fingers with an ease he found at once thrilling and disconcerting, the laser-sharp focus of his attention drawing her out by inches, in consideration of each feature, each subtle curve and sharp line individually and reminding him again and again how fragile she looked in the span of his hands.

Beneath his touch she was steady despite the nervousness that lived in her eyes, the lift of her chin as much an act of defiance as it was proof of her determination. As if he too, this too, was a challenge to be met head on, to be conquered.

The lash of his worry in this was like lightning, freezing him in place with his lips a breath away from her skin, his hands splayed out and curving around the frame of her hips. The shiver that worked through her was one he felt down to his marrow, and where his nose brushed against the soft skin of her belly in the action of looking up at her, a shiver wanted to work through him in reply despite the fact that he was anything but cold.

From beneath the fan of her heavy lashes she watched him with molten eyes and caught him in his hesitation, the shakiness of her breath then nearly drawing him back but for the lift of her hand to card through his hair and the slight nod of her head in encouragement. He bent to her again, mouth dragging against the exposed plane of her belly as it had the curve of her ribs above him, the valley between her breasts, the line of her throat where she had bared it to him with an ease that had caught him like a knife carving through him.

He tasted her in unhurried mouthfuls. Explored her with the flat of his tongue and the press of his lips until she moved restless beneath him but remained, for the moment, indulgent. He found in fragments of hours each place that drew her body taut as a bow, that caught her breath and made her nearly, but never quite whimper. Each time she tensed beneath him he slowed, lingering over her with his mouth still on her skin and his eyes rolled up to meet hers until she relaxed once more. To smile her slow wicked smile and scrape the edge of her nails over his scalp to see him breathing a touch harsher against her.

His breath skittered out against the bridge between hip and thigh as his hands smoothed down over her sides and he moved, settling onto his belly on the bed between her parted thighs. His hands pressed them wider still to allow his shoulders to fit between them, fingers pressing gently but insistently against the insides of her knees, the impossibly soft skin of her inner thighs.

Her fingers tightened in his hair then to hold but direct him as he dragged his eyes over her, feeling too much as if his heart came to a standstill in his chest when he saw how flushed, how slick she had grown for him. The sound he made then was thoughtless and throaty, a hoarse sound of want as he moved forward, hands sliding along her flesh until he could spread her with his thumbs. She sighed something that sounded very much like his name when he bent to her to taste, then shuddered sharp for the lick of his tongue, the press of his lips, the slip of his fingers, rough and calloused but absolute in their gentleness as he touched her.

Her heels slid against the mattress beneath them as he worked, her back arching off the bed as her body moved instinctive to offer him more of her for every second's passing. Where she grew impatient and overeager he slowed, smiling against where she clenched and fluttered for him, and drew out the lengths of her pleasure until it was very much like torture and it was all she could do to hold onto him.

There was absolution in the taste of her in ambrosia and honey on his tongue. Pleasure incomparable in the wet velvet texture of the muscles that worked around his fingers when they pressed into her. The boundaries of the world had shrunk to the shape and dimensions of her body, erasing all that was not her from thought as every muscle in his body strained for the control required to assure her pleasure above all else.

Until her hips hitched beneath him and one hand need press down against the jut of her iliac crest beneath her skin to keep her from injuring him in her fervor as she shuddered, as she broke. His tongue worked her through the waves and shallows of it until the sounds she made edged on too sharp, his mouth turning to the inside of one thigh as he held onto her, his fingers biting into the softness of her flesh. Until she shuddered once more. Until she stilled and melted down into the tangle of their sheets and was breathless and trembling in the wake of it.

He breathed raggedly against her skin, easing his grip on her only through sheer force of will as he waited for her to find herself once more.

For the sound of his name sighed again from above as she smiled dazed above him, her fingers carding once more through his hair, her body loose and boneless as she murmured his name and called him upward to take the taste of herself off his lips. To press fractured confessions against his mouth and warm him to his core with the certainty that in no place, no world, did he belong more entirely than in the cradle of her thighs and the haze of her want and her love.


End file.
